


The Passenger

by fleurlb



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If pressed, Dean would've said that Sam was too smart to be fooled by one of the oldest ghosts in the book. Dean would be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Passenger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemonstiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonstiles/gifts).



> Set during Season 1. Hope you enjoy it!

Dean woke up slowly, as though surfacing through miles of murky water. His face was pressed against the passenger window of the Impala, and he kept his eyes closed. He could hear Sam talking and wondered if his brother always talked to himself or if this was some new weirdness to worry about. Then Dean heard an eerie, girlish giggle coming from the back seat.

"Oh Sam! I bet you say that to all the girls," an ethereal voice sang out. The hairs rose on the back of Dean's neck, and an alarm bell rang dully in his sleep-addled brain.

"I swear I don't. You're just bringing out something in me, Ellie Sue," laughed Sam, sounding giddy and flirty.

Dean's eyes snapped open. "What's going on here, Sammy? You make a new friend in the last 100 miles?"

"This is Ellie Sue. Her boyfriend left her in the middle of nowhere after a fight. Can you believe that?"

Dean could believe it, and more too. He lowered his voice to a hiss. "You got into Stanford so I know you're not stupid. That can only leave crazy."

"What are you taking about, Dean? I'm helping a girl in trouble." Sam looked up into the rear view mirror and smiled.

"That's right, Sammy. The world's gone to hell in a handbasket. I blame the president. My daddy says that he stole the election."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, sure seems like something dodgy went down in Florida, huh?"

Ellie Sue's laugh was long and loud. "Florida is barely worth bothering with. It was voting early and often in Chicago that tipped the race for Kennedy."

Sam looked at Dean, alarm flickering in his eyes for the first time as his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Dean angled the rear view mirror and took a peek at their passenger. Her clothes should've been a dead giveaway. Who wore pillbox hats and white gloves these days? But if Sam had missed that, the trickle of blood coming from her left ear should've sent Sam scrambling for the rock salt shotgun. Dean would bet his last dollar that the fighting boyfriend had caved in the back of her skull.

Dean ducked his head and started digging through the glove box, creating a flurry of fast food napkins as he muttered to himself just loud enough for Sam to hear. "Somehow doesn't realize he's picking up Jackie-O AFTER Dealey Plaza. Damn kid has a lot to learn. Probably looked her in the eye and saw what he wanted to see."

Dean pulled out an old plastic bottle filled with salt and started pouring a line across the floor in the backseat. "I can't even nap in my own car without risking waking up with a ghost passenger. Seriously Sammy, this is only supposed to happen to stupid 16 -year old kids. You forget Constance already?"

"That was different, Dean. She was a full on lady in white. Ellie Sue looked completely normal," argued Sam, matching Dean's whisper hiss.

"In the moonlight, right? Let me guess that you were driving along and then suddenly the clouds parted and there she was."

Sam's cheeks went red, and he stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

"Thought so," muttered Dean. Then he turned on his nice and easy voice. "Ellie Sue, that's a lovely name. You got a last name to go with that, honey?"

"Watkins. Eleanor Susan Watkins."

"Jackpot," said Dean, relieved that they at least knew exactly whose grave they'd be looking for.

"I picked her up outside of Broussard, if that helps at all."

Dean glanced in the rear view mirror. Their ghostly passenger was humming and patting her hair into place. Dean thought about remarking that at least Sammy had picked a docile one, but he didn't want to tempt fate.

"A bit. It's going to be a long night." Dean's sigh was equal parts grim and resigned.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't," said Dean, cuffing his little brother upside the head. Sometimes, Dean thought hunting alone would be easier, but it probably wouldn't be as interesting.


End file.
